


The House of the Stag

by Northern_Lady



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Beating, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, Household, Lordship, Masters, Original Character-centric, Servants, Soap Opera, Unrequited Love, learning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Lady/pseuds/Northern_Lady
Summary: Gendry tries to adjust to life as lord of Storm's end. The new servants at Storm's End try to adjust to having a peasant for a lord. Plenty of ladies come to call on the unmarried lord.Inspired by Downton Abby.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has a lot of original characters from Houses established in the books. I know a lot of people come here to read about familiar characters. This isn’t really one of those kinds of stories. If you’re willing to meet some new characters and read a little about how a peasant learns to be a lord, maybe this story is for you.

It was hard to know what to expect when he arrived at Storm’s End. Gendry had never been a Lord before. He had never wanted to be a Lord or ever expected he would become one. In the end though, with Arya gone off to explore the Western seas and the Starks ruling in the North and the South, there was little else to do but to take the Lordship that was offered to him and try his best at being nobility. Gendry honestly wasn’t sure he could pull it off. 

He approached the castle on horseback and felt a little in awe of it. It had only one tower which was massively high. The walls surrounding it were forty feet thick. And he had been told that on the sea side of the castle there was a drop of one hundred and fifty feet from the tower to the water. It was difficult for him to comprehend that by law all of this was his. He had come from nothing, from poverty on the streets of Kingslanding and now he was a lord with lands and bannermen? Would they even respect him as a lord or would they see him as an imposter? 

Gendry had nearly reached the gate which was open when three people came out into the courtyard. One wore maesters robes. One was a knight. The third seemed to be a boy, possibly a squire. 

“Lord Gendry,” the maester began. “I am maester Jurne. This is Ser Gilbert Farring. He has been Castellan here for some time and this is his son Bryen. We are glad you have come and happy to serve you as we did Renly and Stannis before you.” 

“We’re happy to serve m’lord,” Ser Gilbert said gruffly. 

“Then you won’t mind showing me around. It looks to be a large castle. I’d hate to get lost in it,” he said good naturedly. 

“Of course m’lord,” Ser Gilbert agreed, still gruff but Gendry imagined that given the scraggly look of the man, gruffness was his way. “This way.” 

Gendry dismounted his horse and handed the reins over to Bryen. The maester and knight showed him the entirety of the castle, the stables, kennels, godswood, the sept, the forge, tower rookery, and last of all the kitchen and servants quarters. 

“They look rather empty,” Gendry commented on seeing the sparse food stores in the kitchens and empty rooms in the servants quarters. 

“The castle hasn’t been fully occupied in years,” Maester Jurne explained. “We haven’t even bothered with a kitchen maid. When we heard that you were being sent here, we sent out word to the bannermen that there are serving positions open. We expected that many of the smallfolk will want to come and serve. A room in a castle and food and clothes is far better than what their peasant villages have to offer.” 

“Better than Flea Bottom too,” he added without thinking. 

The two men only stared at him for a moment before continuing. “Once we have a full household, it will be time to invite eligible ladies to visit.” The maester reminded him. “A lord can not be without a wife and heir.” 

“I know,” Gendry said uncomfortably. “The king told me I would need to marry. There’s no hurry though. I’m not that old.” 

“It isn’t a matter of youth. The fact is, the kingdom has been at war for a very long time. There are now many widows and fatherless young women to pick from and some come with lands of their own but that will not be the case if you wait too long. Eligible wives don’t grow on trees,” Jurne scolded. 

“Let’s just find enough servants first and then we’ll figure it out,” Gendry suggested. “In the meantime, I’ve never been educated like other lords. I’ll need your help Maester Jurne to learn the things I wasn’t taught before.” 

“Of course. I will come to your solar in the morning and we can begin then.” Jurne agreed. 

“And Ser Gilbert, since you’ve been taking care of this castle for a long time and doing all the things a lord would do, maybe you’d like to stay as steward?” Gendry asked. He had decided before he arrived that he would try to retain the loyalty of any household already there. 

“Be happy to m’lord,” Ser Gilbert agreed gruffly. “My son would like to serve as your squire if you’ll permit it.” 

“I’ve never had a squire before but of course I’ll permit it,” Gendry agreed. 

That evening Gendry retired to his solar and supper was brought to him by his squire Bryen. Gendry felt a little like a king. A lonely king but a king all the same. 

***

“A raven came, my lord” Maester Jurne entered the solar in the late afternoon just a week after Gendry had arrived. “Would you like to try reading the message yourself?” 

Gendry had been practicing his reading but was not fluent just yet. “No, go ahead,” he told the maester. 

“Lord Arstan Selmy sends word that two of his nine children would like to join your household,” Jurne told him. “His son Hiram asks to join the household guard and his daughter Lira would like to work in the kitchens.” 

“That seems agreeable to me, don’t you think?” Gendry asked. 

“Indeed my lord. There are in fact three new peasants arrived this morning to apply to be servants. Matilda Rivers is a scullery maid with twenty two years of work in kitchens. Sir Gilbert suggested she be put in charge of the kitchens as headmistress. The other two are boys of House Swann and would make good stableboys.”

“Alright. I should like to meet them though,” Gendry thought it was important to know the people in his household. 

“I’ll bring them up.” 

***

Matilda Rivers liked an orderly kitchen. As soon as help arrived she made that brat Lira Selmy scrub down the entire kitchen floor on her hands and knees with a pail and brush. There was no excuse for dirt in a kitchen and there was certainly no excuse for a highborn lady such as Lira to try and get out of work due to her noble blood. 

“You want me to wash the floor, how?” Lira asked, her eyes wide with disbelief. 

“You heard me. Get some hot water from the pot on the fire, get down on your hands and knees and scrub.” Matilda commanded, a hand on her plump hip. 

“But my dress…” Lira looked down at her pale blue dress which would surely be stained with dirt from the kitchen floor. 

“That’s what aprons are for lass,” Matilda took an apron down from a hook and tossed it at the girl who couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen. “What’s a fine lady doing here in the kitchen if you never learned how to scrub no floors anyhow?” 

“My father sent me here. It was punishment,” Lira looked down at her feet, her light brown curls falling into her eyes. 

“Punishment aye?” Matilda needed to know what she had been punished for. The best way to stop trouble was to prevent it. Sure, she’d beat the girl to keep her in order if she had to but it would be simpler to know what sort of trouble to watch for. “What’d you do? Say something rude to a fancy lord?” 

“No my lady,” Lira said but did not add further details. 

“Well stop gawking and get to washing before I get out the cane and make you go faster!” 

“Yes, my lady!” Lira scurried to do as she had been told. 

Footsteps approached and Ser Gilbert stuck his head into the kitchen door. “I’ve brought more help,” he stepped aside and allowed two more women into the kitchens ahead of him. One was tall, slim, with graying hair. The other was shorter with red hair and just enough extra weight to make her plump but not overly large. “This here is Jeyne Trant and Edyth Hasty.” That was all the explanation Ser Gilbert gave before he trudged away. 

Matilda wiped her hands on her apron before approaching her newest help to size them up. “Which of you is Jeyne?” 

“I am Jeyne,” the taller older woman answered with confidence and poise befitting her age and manner. 

“And what can you do Jeyne?” Matilda asked. 

“ I served lord Renly a long time ago as cook for eight years. I can cook anything fancy that might be required and I can make good sturdy meals that the small folk would appreciate.” Jeyne said with confidence. 

“And you, piglet? I suppose your name is Edyth. What can you do besides eat?” Matilda asked with disdain, despite her own extra weight. 

“I too served lord Renly but at the same time as Jeyne. I worked in the laundry. I’ve never worked in a kitchen before,” Edyth said, a little nervous. 

“Then you will work in the laundry again, it’s down the hall that way. Laundry reports to the kitchen and you will bring all the clean aprons to me each morning and help cut vegetables while the laundry soaks. Is that understood?” 

“Yes m’lady,” Edyth said with a nod and she grabbed an apron off a hook and took off down the hall to the laundry vat. 

“Go ahead and get started with some bread, Jeyne,” Matilda told the other woman. “His lordship Gendry doesn’t like much rye.” 

“I’ll make it wheat,” Jeyne said as she found the flour barrel and set to work. 

Lira had been watching the whole scene with curiosity and forgot to keep scrubbing. Matilda spun on her heel to face her. “You there. Hold out your hand.” 

Lira was unsure what Matilda wanted of her until the cane struck her palm. 

***

Gendry stood in his solar gazing out the window to the sea. Ser Gibert was bringing up three more men to be added to the household. He’d met the two stableboys from house Swann earlier in the week and the siblings from house Selmy yesterday. Then there had been two kitchen maids an hour ago. It was strange that these people were here to serve him. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Ser Gilbert had warned him that soon he would start having to decide on some of the more trusted positions. He would need a head of household guard, a kennel master, a stable master, and some women who could serve as handmaids eventually. 

He turned to the door when he heard footsteps. Ser Gilbert entered with the three men as promised. “This is Ser Cortnay Penrose,” Gilbert began the introductions. A balding man with a red beard stepped forward. “He served lord Renly and was Castallen here for a time before me.” 

“I am glad to see you’ve returned to serve House Baratheon again,” Gendry told him because it was what he was expected to say. 

“I’m happy to serve m’lord.” 

“And this,” Gilbert continued, “Is Ser Brus Buckler. He served lady Selyse for many years.” 

Brus, a middle aged man who was tall and lean nodded his acknowledgement. “I am pleased to serve my lord.” 

“I’m pleased to have you,” Gendry replied. 

“And this young man is Ser Derek Wensington,” Ser Gilbert introduced the sandy haired man without giving any additional information. The man was not as tall as Ser Brus but was more muscular than either of the two older knights.

“Forgive me, I know that House Wensington is among the Baratheon banners but I don’t recall who you served or where you were knighted.” Gendry said. 

“I was knighted by Stannis just before the Battle for Winterfell. After Stannis lost I went across the narrow sea and worked as a sellsword for a few years,” Ser Derek said with certain arrogant swagger than was found in many young knights. “I was tired of fighting for kings.”

“What has now made you decide to fight for a lord, then?” Gendry voiced the question that he could see Ser Gilbert was thinking of asking, given the expression on his steward’s face. 

Derek shrugged a little. “Ambition.” 

“Ambition?” It was a word Gendry understood having spent most of his life as a peasant but now hearing it from the perspective of a lord it made him feel a certain amount of mistrust. What did this knight want and what would he do to get it? 

“I only mean that a castle is a better future than marching to battle after battle for a king that half the people don’t even support. The queen in the north and the south have agreed that you’re lord here. There’s no question that who I serve is legitimate. Serving the lord of Storm’s End is a better place than any I’ve had so far,” Ser Derek explained. “That is if you’ll have me, my lord?” 

Gendry nodded. “Yes, I thank you for your service.” 

Ser Derek stepped back into line alongside the other two knights and they waited to either be spoken to or dismissed. “You may take rooms on the west side where the household guard always slept. You may go.” 

The knights all exited except for Ser Gilbert. “Will you pick your Captain of Guard from among them?” 

Gendry nodded. “I was thinking it should be Ser Brus. He served lady Selyse a long time which probably means he is loyal as well as experienced.” 

“Good choice,” the man said gruffly as ever. 

As soon as Ser Gilbert had left, Maester Jurne entered the solar carrying yet another message. 

“More servants arriving?” he asked, already getting tired of the task of approving household servants. 

“Not this time. It seems that Lady Alynne Connington will be passing this way in a week and requests permission to stop at Storm’s End on her journey,” Maester Jurne told him, clearly pleased with the news. 

“Really?” Gendry was a little taken aback. The ladies were calling on him now? 

“Yes really.” Jurne said more seriously. “This is probably the first of many such calls. You will need to prepare proper accommodations befitting a lady of her station. Your household is rather small to prepare a feast but at least one of the kitchen maids could serve as handmaid while she is here. I would suggest that preparations begin right away. The more practice your handmaids have, the better chance Lady Alynne will enjoy her stay and wish to make it a more permanent visit.” 

“Seven hells…” Gendry muttered. This was getting to be more complicated than he ever wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are kinda short chapters and at this point I’m still getting through introductions of characters. The drama and romance are still to come.

Mara Snow stopped to fix her shoe in the place where her toe went out the top. Her shoes hadn’t been in good shape when she started walking back in the Vale and they were in far worse shape now. Storm’s End was just ahead though. She truly hoped that she could find a position here. Anything would be better than what she had left behind at the Vale. It had to be. 

Mara reached the open gates and found the courtyard occupied by two young men and a boy. They two young men looked alike enough that they were obviously brothers. They were busy trying to saddle a young horse that did not want to be saddled and the boy was stacking firewood near one of the doors into the castle. One of the stable boys caught sight of her. 

“Good day to you there,” one of the young men left his brother with the horse and approached her with a smile. “I’m Patrick Swann, that’s my brother Grayson. What brings such a lovely lady as yourself to Storm’s End?” 

Mara ignored the compliment. It wasn’t the first time a young man had called her pretty and she wasn’t so stupid as to be seduced by it. “I’m Mara Snow. I’m here to work. I heard lord Gendry is looking for smallfolks to serve house Baratheon.” 

“Snow?” Patrick’s brother’s Grayson asked as he tied the horse to a post. “What’s a Snow doing in the Stormlands?” 

“I was born at Torrhen’s Square and then my mother was sent to serve at the Vale. I came here from the Vale. May I speak to your steward or whoever is in charge about being taken into service?” she asked them. 

The two brothers looked at each other and shrugged. “Bryen?” Patrick called out to the boy stacking wood. “Take Mara here to speak to Ser Gilbert?” 

Bryen threw down the wood he’d been stacking into the pile. “I don’t answer to you!” he told Patrick. “Take her there yourself.” 

“I’ll be glad to take her there,” A young knight entered the courtyard just then. “I’m Ser Derek Wensington at your service.” The sandy haired knight told her with a charming smile. 

“Thank you Ser,” Mara told him. She didn’t trust his friendly smile but she followed him into the castle all the same, carrying her rucksack all the way. 

“So what happened Mara that brought you all the way from serving Lord Robyn to here?” Ser Derek asked her. He didn’t wait for her reply. “I imagine it was probably something terrible to induce a lady of your beauty to travel the countryside alone. Whatever happened to you there, I can assure you, you will be safe here. There are plenty of knights here who take their duties seriously. Myself included.”

“It was no danger that brought me here,” Mara told him and that was mostly the truth. “Lord Robyn was very kind and his household did not harm me.”

Ser Derek gave her a curious look as if he wanted to know more details but he did not ask. “This is Lord Gendry’s solar. He and Ser Gilbert are in there now, I think.” Ser Derek knocked loudly and then opened the door when one of the occupants told him to do so. “I have brought a new servant my lord,” Ser Derek told them. “This is Mara Snow, she came here from the Vale.” 

Mara stepped into the room and left Ser Derek outside the open door. Lord Gendry was younger than she had expected and more handsome too. He looked like a man who knew how to work. 

“What brings you to serve at Storm’s End?” Gendry asked her curiously. 

She knew she had to tell her new lord the truth of it. He wouldn’t want her there if he believed she had run away from lord Arryn. She had not run away but lord Gendry would still want evidence of that. “I am widowed my lord. My husband fell in battle one year ago and my son passed of fever three months ago. I can no longer walk Lord Aryn’s halls without seeing their ghosts. Lord Robyn gave his permission that I seek service here in a new castle.” 

Gendry nodded, a bit of compassion was visible in his eyes. “What work did you do for Lord Robyn?” 

“I was a handmaid to his wife Lady Stella and to Lady Lysa before that when I was a maid of ten and three.” 

“We have no ladies yet in Storm’s End but guests are expected soon. You should serve as handmaiden when we do have guests and in the meantime you could help Mistress Matilda in the kitchens if that arrangement suits you,” he told her. 

“Yes m’lord. That arrangement suits me just fine,” Mara agreed with a curtsey. 

An hour later Mara had put her things away in her tiny new bedchamber and headed to meet the kitchen staff and assist them. 

“I’m looking for Mistress Matilda,” Mara said as she stood in the kitchen doorway. 

“Aye, you’ve found her,” Matilda stabbed the knife she was cutting meat with into the wooden table in front of her. She wiped her bloody hands on her apron and crossed the room to look Mara over. “So you’re Mara Snow, the widow?” 

Mara bit back the anger she felt at the way this woman was said widow as if it were the equivalent of whore. “I am Mara Snow.” 

“Well then, I’ll have you know Mara Snow that I don’t allow no slacking off in this kitchen,” Matilda explained or rather demanded. “I don’t care how pretty you are or how many great ladies you served, you’ll work hard or you’ll be caned. And widow or not there will be no crying in this kitchen. None. Is that clear?” 

“It’s very clear m’lady,” Mara told the fat older woman. She was beginning to think that coming to Storm’s End would not be a good new start after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly love writing all this drama about what happens in the servants quarters. We will get back to Gendry and the Nobles again soon.

Patrick Swann loved working with horses. He had never wanted to be a Knight and didn’t care if he ever inherited any of his father’s lands. Though he knew he likely wouldn’t inherit anything at all. With three older brothers and two younger sisters there wouldn’t be anything left to inherit anyways. None of that mattered to him if he could have charge of fine horses somehow. Patrick’s passion for horses was entirely different from the way his brother Grayson worked with animals. Grayson was only two years older than Patrick, twenty years old, and acted like an old man. Grayson was reserved and thoughtful and probably very wise too, much to Patrick’s annoyance. Grayson worked with horses out of practicality. Horses were necessary for transportation and for battle. He saw them as beasts that could provide a living for him. Patrick saw horses very differently. For every knight that went into glorious battle, there was a stable master somewhere that had trained that horse to ignore its instincts to flee and instead plunge willingly into danger. He wanted to be that stable master someday. He wanted his horses to trust him so thoroughly that not even the clashing swords or screams of battle would make them flee. 

It was late in the evening and Patrick was still in the yard walking one of the skittish horses with a lead rope. 

You’re out late,” one of the kitchen maids spoke to him as she crossed the dark courtyard. 

It was the red haired plump one. He couldn’t remember her name. “I suppose I am. I wanted to spend a little longer teaching Blaze here not to be afraid of the hounds. See how she sidesteps every time we pass the kennels?” 

The maid followed for a moment as Patrick circled the yard and Blaze did indeed become anxious as they passed the Kennels. 

“That’s kind of you to help her learn not to be afraid,” the maid said. 

“Tis not entirely a kindness. She may have to go to battle someday. She needs to learn to be brave,” Patrick told her. “Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten your name.” 

“It’s Edyth. Edyth Hasty. There’s nothing to forgive. I’m entirely forgettable,” she said sheepishly. 

He stopped walking long enough to look at the red haired maid at his side. Her hair was a mess of tight curls which failed to stay entirely in the ribbon she had tied them into. There was a bit of blush to her freckled cheeks. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue. In all she was actually rather pretty in her own way. 

“I doubt you are forgettable,” Patrick blurted without thinking. 

Edyth blushed a little at his words. “That’s very kind of you to say.” 

“How did you come to be here, Edyth of House Hasty? Do you have aspirations of being handmaid to the new lady Baratheon?” 

“Oh no. I’ll never be a handmaid. Ladies maids are graceful and good with sewing and singing to help keep their lady entertained. The truth is, I came because my father had many daughters and not enough dowry for us all. I needed a place to work or else I’d become an idle old maid. I may still become an old maid but at least I will be busy.”

Patrick wasn’t convinced Edyth would become an old maid. She may not have been a conventional beauty but she was plenty noticeable all the same. He didn’t tell her that though. “Yes, I think lord Gendry will keep us all busy. Allow me to put this horse back in her stall and then I’ll walk you back to the servants quarters. It’s late for a maid to be out alone.” 

“Do you think it’s unsafe here?” she asked him wide eyed. 

“Probably not,” he told her, not wanting to give her cause to fear. In truth something Ser Derek had said that morning disturbed Patrick greatly. Ser Derek had made some arrogant statement that he was a knight and could have any woman he wanted. Patrick was still unsure if Derek had intended to say that all women wanted him or that he would take any woman whether they wanted him or not. He hated to think what might happen should Edyth stumble on Ser Derek alone. “But don’t begrudge me a chance to walk with you all the same,” he told her with half a smile.

“Of course not,” Edyth blushed even more deeply at the offer. “I would be glad for the company.” 

Patrick put Blaze back in her stall and then walked with Edyth back to the servants quarters. He didn’t take her arm to escort her. He wasn’t a knight or a lord and she wasn’t a lady, after all. But he did remain at her side the entire distance. They had very nearly reached the servants hall when Ser Gilbert strode around the corner looking as grouchy and gruff as ever. 

“What are you two doing out?” he asked them. 

“Nothing. Just walking,” Patrick said. 

Ser Gilbert grunted as if he didn’t believe a word of it. “Don’t stay up all night. And if you’re too tired to do your work tomorrow don’t complain to me,” he told them and he strode away. 

“Why is he always so grouchy?” Edyth asked after he was gone. 

“I heard that Ser Gilbert injured his leg in battle some years ago and it never healed right. It always hurts him. That’s why he’s so angry. Constant pain,” Patrick explained. 

“That’s terrible. Poor man.” She said sadly, watching the hallway where Ser Gilbert had left, then she turned to Patrick. “Well, this is my room.” she touched a door to her right.

“Then, I bid you good night,” and Patrick fled the hallway before he could do something stupid like maybe kiss her. 

***

Lira never cried in the kitchen. Matilda would have likely caned her again if she had dared to shed a tear on her clean kitchen floor. No, Lira waited until she had a moment away from the kitchen to shed her tears. 

She had been sent by the Mistress to find a suitable bedchamber for their Lady guest and to prepare it for her arrival with the help of Mara Snow. Lira had stepped into a duty bedchamber and opened the curtains for better light to get a look at it. This one was smaller than some of the others had been and probably wasn’t suitable for Lady Conington. It was suitable enough for a good cry though. Mara Snow was further down the hall checking other rooms so Lira dropped down into a lounge chair at the end of the bed and allowed her tears to flow. 

“Lira?” Mara Snow returned to find her weeping alone. “What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t do this!” Lira sobbed. 

Mara approached her and knelt down to her level to sit on a stool near her chair. “Can’t do what?” 

“I don’t know how to be a servant. Everything I do is wrong. Matilda caned my hand my first day here and then she caned my legs the second day. I’m still bruised…” Lira sobbed. “I’ve never been a servant in my life and she thinks I should already know what to do except I don’t know. I don’t know how to scrub floors or to cook stew or stoke fires. I don’t know any of that. It isn’t that I don’t want to work, I just don’t know how.” 

“You came from a noble house, House Selmy?” Mara asked her kindly. 

Lira nodded with a sniffle. “Yes.” 

“Why would you come here for a job that you were not prepared to do?” Mara asked her gently. 

“Because I’m pregnant. My father sent me away to hide my shame. When the babe is born he will take it away from and force me to marry my betrothed as if this never happened. I don’t want to marry Lord Kellington’s son. I don’t care how wealthy he is. I want to be with my beloved Gareth Rivers and to raise our child with him but my father has forbidden it. He sent Gareth away and I don’t even know where.” 

“Well then,” Mara said, resolved to help this woman because it would at least give her a sense of purpose for the first time in months. “First of all, I’m going to teach you how to be a servant. I’ve been one all my life and I know exactly what to do. Secondly, you serve lord Gendry Baratheon now. His House holds more power than House Selmy. Earn his favor and no one, not even your father can take your child away from you.” 

“You really think he would help me?” Lira asked, a little hope in her tone. 

“He was raised as a peasant. If any lord were to care about the plight of his servants, he would. First you will earn your place here and then we will ask for his help.” 

Lira nodded, wiping away her tears. “Alright. Where do we begin?” 

“There’s a chamber further down the hall that we will use for Lady Conington. I’ll show you how to sweep it out, change all the bed linens, and scrub the floors. Are you ready?” 

Lira nodded and followed Mara out of the room, prepared to learn how to do her duties.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be violence in this chapter. It’s not terribly graphic but I just wanted to note that it will be there.

Gendry was rather bored with answering letters and meeting servants. There had been three more servants that day. It had been a man and his wife and their three children, a minor branch of House Wagstaff. The man Nathyn would oversee the kennels, his wife Rosa could serve in the laundry or as a chambermaid, and their two young sons and daughter would assist the rest of the household. He was satisfied that the household was running smoothly and decided to go for a ride. 

“Which of these horses is suitable to take to the village?” Gendry asked the man in the stables.   
“You are Grayson Swann, correct?” 

Yes my lord,” Grayson looked up from where he had been stooped over checking one of the horses hooves. “I would take Blackmoon over there, m’lord. They say she was a Dothraki horse. She’s one of the best you have. Fine stock for breeding and good tempered.” 

Gendry went and looked the horse over more closely. His horse. He took her from the stall. Saddled her up and rode out into the yard. Ser Derek was already out there on horseback, shooting at a target with a crossbow. 

“Are you going to the village my lord?” The knight asked him. “Allow me to accompany you? At least one member of your guard should go with you.”

Gendry hadn’t really thought about the fact that he couldn’t go wandering off alone. Lords wandering alone could be kidnapped and ransomed back to their families or could suffer abuse by vengeful smallfolk that they offended. If he had to bring a guard, he wasn’t sure he wanted Ser Derek. 

“Alright,” Gendry agreed, not seeing a better way out of it. His household was too small to risk offending the few he had just yet. 

“They’re saying that Lady Alynne Connington will be arriving in two days' time,” Ser Derak said as they started off. 

“I am aware,” Gendry said, still not really liking the notion. 

“My lord, you sound unhappy about the prospect,” Ser Derek said. 

“I did not set out to be lord of Storm’s End. I would like a little more time before I start having...visitors,” Gendry explained. 

“Of course my lord. There are many things to prepare for the visit of a great lady. There’s decorations, food, and music for dancing,” Ser Derek said as if he knew all about it. 

“Dancing?” Gendry didn’t know why he suddenly felt panicked. He had never danced a day in his life. He didn’t know anything about the sorts of dances that fancy folks had. 

“Of course. Maester Jurne said this morning that they’ve found a bard from Kinglanding to come and provide the music. He will be here tomorrow,” 

“Why did he not mention this to me?” Gendry asked, his mouth feeling dry. 

“Because Maester Jurne is a mess. Have you seen the Rookery? The man wouldn’t know how to organize a shitshow if all he had to do was stand there and throw shit. Jurne probably forgot. He forgets everything.” 

Gendry wasn’t entirely convinced that Derek’s approximation of Jurne was accurate. 

“I could help him get organized and then he wouldn’t spring this news on you unawares,” Derek offered. 

“I’ll speak to him myself,” Gendry said. It looked as though Ser Derek wanted to take over duties that were not his own. Well, Gendry supposed he should have expected that. The man had described himself as ambitious. 

***

Mara entered the kitchen to find an entire meat pie overturned on the floor. Lira was on her knees next to it crying, again. 

“What happened?” Mara asked her as she got out some rags to begin to clear up the mess. 

“I tried to take it from the ovens and I forgot to wear the mittens,” Lira said, holding up her burned hand. 

“Gods Lira…” Mara sighed. Would the girl never learn? “You need to leave. Matilda will be back any moment and if she sees this she’ll cane you again. Get up. Go!” 

Lira got to her feet anxiously. “What will you do?” 

“I’ll try and clean this up before she finds it. Go!” Mara commanded the girl. Lira fled the kitchens as she was told. Mara worked quickly to clean up the mess but not quick enough. 

“Now what’s all this?” Matilda said with a hand on her hip and a smirk on her face. 

“A pie spilled. I’ll clean it up,” Mara told her calmly. “I’ve almost finished.” 

“That pie was for Lady Alynne. You’ve wasted it. If there’s one thing I don’t tolerate in my kitchen it’s waste,” Matilda took her cane down from the shelf on the mantle where she kept it of late. “Come over here?” 

Mara got up and did as she was told. A life spent as a servant taught her that sometimes she had to just take what she got and not complain. The kitchen mistress at the Vale had also been given the authority to cane the servants should the need arise. Such beatings happened very rarely but they did happen on occasion. Pain was part of life. Lira was ill prepared for that reality but it was a reality that Mara knew all too well. She stood and faced Matilda, her jaw clenched defiantly. Matilda didn’t like the defiance in Mara’s eyes. 

“Don’t you look at me like that, wench.” Matilda sneered. “Unlace your dress!”

“What?” this was a command she had not expected. 

“You heard me. Unlace it and turn around.”

Mara unlaced the ties on the front of her dress and allowed the fabric to fall from her shoulders. She turned around, her bare back facing Matilda. She flinched at first when the cane struck her but tried to clench her jaw more firmly so as to not make a sound. The headmistress did not stop after just a few blows but continued until Mara realized that she was bleeding. She felt warm blood run down her back and let out an involuntary sob. Matilda hit her two more times and then stopped. 

“Lace up your dress and get back to work,” Matilda said, putting the bloody cane back on the mantle. 

The rest of the day was difficult. Lira returned with her hand wrapped in a bandage and she worked alongside Mara, her eyes full of guilt the entire time. By the time evening came, Mara was exhausted and nearly overcome with pain. She was thankful that the new woman Rosa would be serving the meal because she and Lira were in no fit state to do it and Edyth was too clumsy to even try. Finally the dishes were washed and all was finished. Mara hung her apron to return to her room. 

“Lord Gendry would like to see you Mara,” Ser Gilbert said from the kitchen door. “In his solar.” 

“Oh,” Mara could not hide her disappointment at this news. She followed the old knight to see her lord all the same. 

“Enter,” Gendry called out at Gilbert's knock. The knight opened the door and Mara entered the room without him. 

“You sent for me, m’lord?” she asked, hoping that he hadn’t called her for something inappropriate. Such things had been known to happen between lords and their servants, especially one so young and unmarried. 

“I did,” gendry got up from his table and approached her. “The truth is, I need your help. Lady Alynne will be here in two days time and I am unprepared. Do you know how to dance?” 

“I know the basics m’lord,” she told him, a little confused about what he was asking. 

“Can you teach me?” He looked worried. He sounded worried. 

“Of course m’lord,” Mara agreed, though it was the last thing she wanted to do. The pain in her back was only getting worse. And there was the act that dancing required a certain intimacy and Mara didn’t want to be near any man who wasn’t her husband Rolf ever again. “There are a few kinds of dances. Most of them follow patterns, a few do not.” 

Despite her discomfort, Mara managed to get her lord through a basic lesson on how dances worked. He practiced a few of the steps with her while she hummed some common tunes. He was not very skilled and soon he stepped on her foot. Mara stumbled backwards and rather than her fall, Gendry caught her with an arm around her back. Mara let out an involuntary cry of pain at the contact. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?” he asked, well aware now that she was hurt. 

Mara wasn’t sure what to say. Some lords would only get angry if the servants complained about how they were disciplined. She couldn’t be sure what his reaction would be. But she supposed she’d never know if she didn’t try. 

“It’s only pain from being caned, m’lord. I’ll be fine,” she told him, careful not to make it a complaint. 

“Caned? When were you caned?” he asked. 

“This morning, m’lord,” the anger in his features had her concerned. 

“By whom? I didn’t give anyone leave to do any caning,” he said, clearly upset for her sake. 

“It was Mistress Matilda. I thought you knew or…” Mara trailed off because it was clear by the look on his face that he had been unawares. 

“Or that I authorized it? No. Never,” he shook his head. “You should go see Jurne. I’m going to speak to Matilda.” 

“Yes m’lord,” Mara curtsied before leaving him. 

“And Mara?” he called after her. “If anyone in this household tries to harm anyone again, i want to be informed. I will put a stop to it. Is that understood.?”

“Yes m’lord,” Mara agreed, feeling a sense of relief that coming to Storm’s End might not have been such a bad choice after all.


	5. Chapter 5

Edyth Hasty squeaked a little and ducked into the pantry when she heard the footsteps approaching. Mistress Matilda had already left the kitchens for the night and Edith thought she had time to slip back in and get a few apple tarts unnoticed. The approaching footsteps told her she had been wrong about that. 

“Anyone still here?” Lord Gendry called out at the doorway. 

Edyth dared not move but it wouldn’t matter. He could see the trail of crumbs from the kitchen to the pantry as well as she could. The lord of the castle followed the trail and opened the pantry door.

“Edyth, what are you doing in here?” he asked. 

Edyth couldn’t speak because her mouth was full of apple tart. She nodded and pointed to her mouth and the tarts in her free hand. 

“Is everything alright m’lord?” Patrick Swann spoke at the doorway. “Are you alright Edyth?”

Gendry took a step back. The look on Patrick’s face was a look he was familiar with. He was worried that the lord of the Castle was taking advantage of a serving girl and further, Patrick was worried that he might have to decide whether to defy his lord to protect her. 

“I was looking for Matilda and found Edyth instead,” Gendry explained. “I suppose I’ll speak to her in the morning,” Gendry left the kitchen and didn’t say a word about Edyth’s stolen tarts. He didn’t know what to say. He had stolen food himself in the past. He didn’t want his household to steal but he also didn’t want to beat them into submission. Being a lord was harder than he had thought it would be. 

Gendry knew he needed more insight into what to do and into his people’s lives and thoughts. He didn’t go far when he left the kitchen. He remained just outside the door. 

“Are you alright Edyth?” Patrick asked her again after their lord had left. 

“Did you follow me to the kitchens?” she asked him, passing him one of the tarts in her hand.

“I was worried about you,” he admitted sheepishly. 

“Why?”

“Well, I was worried about Ser Derek. He’s dangerous. You should stay away from him if you can. I know you wander about the castle after dark sometimes and I didn’t want you to find him alone,” Patrick told her. 

“That’s very kind of you...you really think he is dangerous?” she asked. 

“He said he could have any woman he wanted. He said it almost like he would take any woman he wanted.” Patrick told her worriedly. “Promise me you won’t sneak off to the kitchen alone after this? I’ll walk with you after the work is done if you want to come back here. Just don’t do it alone.” 

“Why do you work in the kennels?” Edyth said as she wiped away a few tears. “You should be a knight. You would be good at it.” 

“I don’t want to be a knight or a lord or anything like that. I just want to train horses and maybe someday have a family.”

“That’s a good plan too. As good as being a knight,” Edyth told him. 

Gendry walked away leaving them to their apparent courtship. He was envious of how easy it was for them. Patrick and Edyth were both younger siblings in a lesser house. They were of the same station. He, on the other hand, was the bastard son of a usurper king. He had been raised as a peasant and then given a legitimate name and a lordship. He did not feel he was equal to any of these noble ladies he was supposed to court. Maybe he was legally equal to them but them but he didn’t understand their culture at all. How was he supposed to find a wife who could manage a castle and also put up with a blacksmith for a husband? How was a blacksmith supposed to manage a household of servants? This was not a task he was suited for. 

Gendry rounded a corner and met Mara coming out of the Maester’s rooms. 

“How are you feeling? Was Jurne able to help you?” he asked her. 

“I am somewhat better, yes,” she told him. 

“I couldn’t find Matilda. I’ll speak to her in the morning. She will be dismissed.” 

“Thank you m’lord,” Mara said with relief. 

“If Jeyne were to take her place, do you imagine she would be kinder?” 

Mara thought about his question a moment then nodded. “She would be stern but she would kinder if you told her to be so.”

“Then I will appoint her in the morning as Mistress,” he said and realized in that moment that he was doing so solely based on Mara’s advice. He didn’t know why, but she was a woman who made sense to him. Perhaps it was because she too was a bastard. “I imagine you are tired and probably in pain so I won’t keep you but can I ask you one question? Your name is Snow so who was your noble parent?” 

“It was Brandon Stark, brother of Eddard Stark. As I said I was born at Torrhen’s square to a common woman there and when I was three and Lord Eddard learned that he had a niece he sent my mother and I to Lord Arryn where Lady Catlyn would never see me or be offended at her former betrothed’s unfaithfulness,” Mara told him. “So I am half Stark but I never knew the Starks. I’m probably nothing like them.” 

“No, you’re very much like the Starks I know,” he told her. It at least made sense why she seemed familiar and why he felt he could trust her advice. “Anyhow, if you’re not feeling well enough to work tomorrow there’s no need to go to the kitchens. We have Rosa to help now and her daughter Alyse will be helping too. Just rest and heal.” 

“I’ll try m’lord,” Mara said as Gendry continued past her to bed. 

He doubted that she would rest on the morrow. If she were anything like the rest of the Starks she would get up and do her duty even if it nearly killed her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains and attempted assault, what ends up being a forced kiss.

The morning came that lady Alynne was due to arrive and the small staff of servants were rushing around in a flurry to make the final preparations. The bedchamber was ready, the pastries were baked, and the fires were roaring thanks to the extra wood carried in by the Swann brothers. Edyth and Rosa were dubly busy with extra laundry from the changing of drapes and tablecloths and Mara hadn’t stopped peeling vegetables in hours. 

Lira had been scrubbing pots at Mara’s side when the girl suddenly turned and vomited on the clean kitchen floor. She finished retching and looked up at Mistress Jeyne in terror to see how the woman would react. 

“Well, you can’t be serving tables now can ye?” Jeyne said, wide eyed. “Go on back to bed with you. Mara will serve tonight.”

“I haven’t served tables in four years,” Mara protested. 

“Lira’s never done it at all until a week ago. Better you, than have her puke lady Connington.” Jeyne said. 

“Speaking of the lady,” Grayson Swann came in with yet another armload of wood and stacked into the pile near the kitchen fire place. “She’s here now.” 

“It’s time to get busy then,” Jeyne muttered as if they hadn’t already been busy for the past three days. “Edith, go to the chamber and prepare the bath. The Lady will want a bath once she is settled in. Rosa, you will assist as handmaid. Mara, go change into a suitable serving dress,” Jeyne barked. She caught young Bryen’s arm as he wandered by. “You need clean clothes if you’re to be cupbearer!” 

“I don’t want to be cupbearer,” Bryen said but he never wanted to do anything until after he’d already done it. 

“You’ll be bearing cups whether you like it or not. Now off with you! Get into clean clothes and come straight back here before I box your ears!” Jeyne threatened. 

Mara hurried off to change and soon returned to the hall to serve the meal. 

Everything seemed to be going so well between Lady Alynne and Lord Gendry at dinner that evening. She was a lovely young woman, light brown hair that was almost blond, brown eyes, she was graceful and had a kind smile. Watching the two of them while she served dinner, Mara thought that perhaps Lord Gendry might not have to wait very long to find a wife. Then Lady Alynne laughed at one of Gendry’s witty remarks and everything began to unravel. It was more of a cackle than a laugh really and Mara could see that though Lord Gendry was so surprised he nearly spit out his wine. He quickly recovered his composure and tried not to let it bother him. Then he made another joke and she cackled even harder. Gendry changed the subject to something more serious, something she wouldn’t find funny. 

It wasn’t Mara who spilled the gossip about Lady Alynne and her laugh but by the time she returned to the kitchen from the great hall, the others were already talking about it. 

“Well he can’t marry her. No man wants a wife who laughs like a woods witch.” Rosa was saying. 

“What a terrible thing to say!” Mara said, scolding the woman without even meaning to. “I’m sure she has plenty of good qualities. Lord Gendry wouldn’t reject her solely because she has an annoying laugh.”

“It wasn’t just annoying.” Bryen put in.”It was horrible. I wanted to run away before she could cast a spell on me.” 

“She isn’t really a witch boy.” Jeyne told him. “She’s a regular lady. And you’ll be expected to serve her like the lady she is, wicked laugh and all. Is that understood?” 

“Yes ma’am…” Bryen strode away with his head down. He never took well to being scolded. 

“They’ll be dancing soon,” Jeyene commented. All of them could hear the music coming from the great hall. “Once they’ve left the table you two go and clear it.” She nodded to Mara and Rosa. 

Mara and Rosa stood near the kitchen door and watched for their lord to leave his table and ask lady Alynne to dance. Once he finally did, the two of them went out and set to clearing away the dishes. From the corner of her eye Mara could see the anxiousness in her lord’s steps. She felt guilty that she hadn’t taken more time to teach him better. When Gendry inevitably stepped on the lady’s foot she cackled once again and he took a startled step back. 

“Let’s not dance,” he told her. “We can walk in the garden.” 

“Oh my, away from everyone?” Alynne fluttered her eyelashes and fanned herself. “I do hope you’re not suggesting anything improper.” 

“Nothing improper. We’ll have an escort.” he told her and she responded with a fake smile. Gendry took her arm and wandered towards the kitchen door, grabbing the attention of the first servant he saw. “Grayson, you’ll escort us to the garden?” 

“Yes, m’lord,” Grayson Swann followed the pair out of the castle.

***

Mara was waiting in the bedchamber when Alynne returned to it. She helped the lady into her sleeping shift, brushed her hair and such and left her to retire for the night. Rosa walked with her part of the way but left her company when she reached the room that housed her husband and children. Mara continued on alone. The quickest way back to her room was to cross the courtyard and so she did. 

She wasn’t really sure where Ser Derek came from. The courtyard was dark and he seemed to come from nowhere. 

“Would you like someone to walk with you m’lady?” The knight offered gallantly. 

Mara wanted to say no. She had very nearly reached her rooms and would much rather continue on alone. She thought it best not to be rude. There was a certain safety in being courteous sometimes. 

“Thank you Ser,” she told him. “You’re too kind.” 

“It’s no trouble. I believe this is the second time I have escorted you in the castle. Perhaps you would allow a third and take a walk with me to the village tomorrow just for the pleasure of your company?” 

Now Mara had reached a complication. She would have to say no but how to do so safely to a man like Ser Derek was a little beyond her skills in courtesy. 

“I’m afraid there won’t be time, Ser,” she tried as an excuse. “Lady Alynne’s visit keeps all of us very busy.” 

“You’ll have a little time after the lady goes to bed, just as you do now,” Ser Derek argued. 

He was right of course but what was she supposed to say? Mara saw movement over near the stables. One of the Swann brothers were still awake over there. She headed in that direction rather than to her room. 

“Perhaps, I might have but I don’t have the inclination. I am a widow. At the moment I prefer to remain alone.” 

“But being alone is lonely, Surely there are things about married life that you miss?” Ser Derek asked her brazenly. 

“Not like you would think,” Mara told him, having reached the stables and placed her hand on the wall need the door. 

“Maybe what you need is reminding,” Ser Derek said and then he took the liberty of closing the space between them and kissing Mara. She tried to step away but he stepped closer and pushed her back against the wall behind her with the weight of his body. 

Mara started to panic when she realized she couldn’t push him away. The stable door to her left opened and Grayson Swann stepped out. 

Grayson reacted quickly and pulled Derek away from her, throwing him down to the ground. 

“What in seven hells so you think you’re doing?” Derek sputtered.

“The Lady was trying to say no. You weren’t listening.” Grayson told him. 

“You’re questioning my honor?” Ser Derek got to his feet and drew his sword. 

“Yes, you’ve just assaulted a lady and now drawn a sword on an unarmed man. I am questioning your honor. If you have any honor at all you’ll put away your blade, apologize to Mara, and go to bed.” 

Angry, Derek put the sword away. “My apologies for the misunderstanding.” And he strode off. 

“Thank you,” Mara told Grayson and then shaken, she ran across the courtyard and the entire distance back to her room.


	7. Chapter 7

Gendry couldn’t sleep. That entire dinner guest ordeal had been a nightmare. He had to admit that Lady Alynne was pretty and she seemed nice but the two of them had nothing in common. He was almost sure that having her laugh roaming about the castle for years on end would be grating on his nerves and unbearable. They would never work out in the end. Lady Alynne would be staying for a few more days and then he would politely bid her farewell and hopefully never see her again. 

It wasn’t just the problem of finding a wife keeping him awake. It was also the problems with the household. Ser Derek was going to be a problem but the truth was, Ser Derek was the best sword they had. His other knights were older, slower. He had the Swann brothers who were young and strong but he assumed that they held no skills with a blade or else they might have asked to be household guards. The Swann brothers were clearly better men than Ser Derek as they lacked his arrogance and showed far more compassion. Gendry didn’t want to demote or dismiss another member of the household if Ser Derek hadn’t actually done anything wrong. It had been difficult enough to dismiss Matilda. 

Gendry tossed and turned in his bed and his last thoughts before drifting off were wondering fleetingly where Arya Stark and her ship might be at that very moment. 

***

Patrick Swann got up extra early to tend on on the young fillies. He wasn’t terribly surprised when Edyth arrived at the stables to wish him good morning. He had been chatting with her more and more often as of late. He was surprised however when she arrived with tears on her face and the sleeve of her dress was torn off. 

“Edyth? What happened?” he asked her concerned. He went to her and could see a bruise on her collarbone and neck. 

“You were right about Ser Derek. He found me in the laundry room. I pushed him into the washing vat and I got away. I think he’s rather furious.” 

Patrick clenched his jaw. “No, I’m the one who is rather furious.” he left the stables and headed straight for the guard’s quarters. He never got that far. He met Ser Derek in the courtyard. 

“How dare you lay a hand on her?” Patrick shouted at Derek, uncaring that he was unarmed. 

‘On who? I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Derek feigned innocence. 

“On Edyth. You tried to force her. I saw the bruises myself!” 

“Edyth?” Derek said with disdain. “I wouldn’t take that fat little bitch if you paid me for her.” 

Patrick didn’t think, he just took a dive at Derek and knocked him off his feet. It was Grayson who pulled him off and made him stop punching. Ser Derek got to his feet indignant. 

“You can’t just accuse and attack a knight without consequences,” Derek said. 

“Nor can you attack the maids of this castle without consequences,” Grayson told him calmly. “Once we tell Lord Gendry what you’ve done, the consequences will be on you.” 

“Lord Baratheon isn’t going to side with you. Even if I did force myself on some peasant wench, who cares? I’m a knight and I can do as I like with women. I can do as I like with you too. If Patrick is so eager to fight me, then fight me.” 

“I’ll fight you,” Patrick agreed, still furious. “I’ll gut you and cut your fucking head off.” 

Grayson held him back for a second time. “No Pat! I’ll do it! You’re shit with a blade. I don’t want you dead.” 

Patrick got hold of his anger long enough to meet Grayson’s eyes and nod. Grayson turned to Ser Derek. “If I win, the castle maids are off limits after this and we keep quiet about what you’ve done already. You win and you can tell lord Gendry we attacked you unprovoked.” 

“It’s a deal,” Ser Derek agreed. 

Grayson grabbed the nearest sword and took the first swing. 

***

Gendry woke in the morning to the sound steel clashing in the yard below. He got out of bed and went to the window to see what was happening in the yard. Much to his confusion, he saw Ser Derek in partial armor with sword and shield engaged in a fight with Grayson Swann who carried only a dented sword and was bleeding from his shoulder. 

Gendry threw on a clean tunic and boots with the breeches he wore and rushed down to the practice yard. Patrick stood at the edge of the yard holding the reins of a horse and watching worriedly. Maester Jurne and Ser Gilbert stood at the edge of the yard in another place. Lady Alynne and two of her men watched from the balcony. 

“What’s going on down here? And don’t tell me this is a practice fight,” Gendry asked Patrick. 

“It’s not m’lord,” Patrick said, worried. 

Ser Derek’s blade hit Grayson in the forearm and Grayson yelled as his arm began to bleed. Gendry shook his head and walked out into the middle of the practice yard. They would stop fighting for their lord. They would have to. If they didn’t he was unarmed and this wasn’t going to end well. 

“Stop this at once!” Gendry shouted at them as he reached them. 

Grayson threw down his blade and collapsed down to one knee, Ser Derek hesitated a moment and then dropped his sword as well. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked them in the same tone that he’d heard angry lords use. 

Ser Derek threw down his shield and threw off his helm to reveal a cut on his cheek. Gendry was momentarily impressed tha Grayson had managed to injure a knight in full armor. He pushed aside his admiration to focus on the matter at hand. 

“One of you tell me what is happening here or you can both leave my service and return to your family houses,” he told them. 

“It was an argument, m’lord,” Patrick called out from behind him. 

“I imagine it was an argument,” Gendry said, irritated. “It doesn’t look like it was a fight for fun. Explain to me what the fight was about.” 

“We made an agreement my lord not tell you until the fight was won,” Grayson said, still catching his breath. “The fight isn’t won yet.” 

“Well, it's an unfair fight,” Gendry said. “Your sword is dented, you have no armor, and now you are injured. Are you sure you want to see this through?” 

“Yes, m’lord.” Grayson said. 

‘Get him a better sword!” Gendry called out. “And some bandages and a shield.” 

Grayson was quickly bandaged up and fitted with armor and a better sword. The fight resumed with a vengeance. Gendry stood back and watched, unsure if he were doing the right thing, allowing this to continue. He didn’t want his people to kill each other. He would stop it and declare a winner before it came to that. Grayson was actually quite good with a sword. His patience and endurance was the only real advantage he had over Ser Derek’s skill. Gendry found himself hoping that the advantage would be enough for Grayson to win. Whatever this was about, both the Swann brothers were involved and he liked them enough that he wanted them to win. 

It almost looked like Grayson might actually have the victory and then Ser Derek got in a blow to Grayson’s sword arm and knocked the sword from his grip. The knight then charged at Swann with his shield and knocked him flat on his back. Grayson didn’t get up. He was not moving but breathing. 

“Looks like we have a winner,” Ser Derek said. 

“No…” Grayson mumbled, sitting up on his elbow and dragging himself to his feet. “I’m not letting you win this one.” 

Gendry knew he couldn’t let the fight continue. If the fight went on any longer, Grayson would probably end up dead. It had to end now. 

“No one is winning this,” Gendry spoke up. “The fight wasn’t fair to begin with. It can’t have a winner.I won’t allow it to end with anyone being dead. The both of you will come to my solar and explain to me what is going on.” he walked away, expecting they would follow. 

Gendry took a chair at the table in his solar and tried to maintain the facade that he knew exactly what he was doing and had the authority to judge these matters. 

“Sit before you fall down,” he told the exhausted men. 

“They attacked me,” Ser Derek began before Gendry could ask. “The Swann brothers attacked a knight, unprovoked and I threatened to report it. They convinced me to see the fight through rather than make that report.” 

“Is that true?” Gendry asked Grayson. 

“It wasn’t unprovoked. He tried to assault two of the kitchen maids in the past few days. Patrick is quick tempered and didn’t think about what it would mean, attacking a knight. He was only trying to defend a maid’s honor.” Grayson explained. “Then Ser Derek here did threaten to report us or fight us. We agreed to fight on the condition that the castle maids were off limits should we win. Except I chose to fight in Patrick’s place because I’m better with a sword than he is.” 

“I never harmed any kitchen maids,” Derek protested. “That is a falsehood.” 

Grayson turned to look at Ser with disgust. “I saw you myself. You forced Mara Snow against a wall and kissed her whilst she tried to shove you away. I should have done more than throw you on the ground. I should have cracked your skull when I did it.” 

“Lies…” Derek shook his head. “These are all lies.” 

Gendry knew though that the Swann brothers were telling the truth. He had known from the beginning that Ser Derek was arrogant. This was further proof. 

“Ser Derek, if you would like to remain in my service, I have need of a knight aboard my fleet of ships,” Gendry said. There were no women serving on the fleet. At sea, Gendry would still have the use of his sword but would also keep his immediate household safe. 

Derek looked taken aback, “You believe these lies? You’d punish me by sending me off to sea?” 

“The sea isn’t so bad, especially when you have sails. Many knights earn great honor serving aboard ships. I’ll not have you remain here and frighten the kitchen maids and disrupt the household. The choice is yours.” 

“Fine,” Ser Derek huffed. “I will sail.” 

“The ship leaves in two days. Begin your journey today. You may go,” Gendry waited until Ser Derek was out the door before speaking to Grayson again. “I would like you to be Captain of the Household Guard.” 

“Me m’lord?” Grayson asked with confusion. 

“You proved today that you’ll risk your own life to protect this household. And you very nearly beat an experienced knight. I know you like the horses but I can’t think of a better person to guard the household,” Gendry explained. 

“What about Patrick? Will he be made Stable Master?” 

“Is that something he wants?” Gendry asked. 

Grayson nodded. “It’s all he’s ever wanted since he was a boy of six. Our father couldn’t keep him out of the stables and could barely get him to hold a sword long enough to learn how to use it. I’ll accept your offer if you’ll make another offer to my brother.” 

“That’s fair. It will be done,” Gendry agreed, “You should go see Maester Jurne. Apparently, I need go entertain Lady Alynne for a little while. Perhaps you’d like to trade places with me for the afternoon?” 

Grayson chuckled a little. “No m’lord. I do not envy that job at all.”


	8. Chapter 8

Lira Selmy watched from a window as her twin brother Kevyn trained in the practice yard alongside Bryen and the two lads from House Wagstaff. Ser Brus Buckler had only just begun his job as Master at Arms and he was taking it seriously by beginning to train the few boys who had joined the household. Lira worried for Kevyn. Most fifteen year old young men from noble houses were already good with a sword by their age. If not a sword then they had skill with some other weapon and if not a weapon they at least had a lordly interest like Hawking or Hunting or Sailing. Kevyn had never taken the time for any of those. His health had never permitted it and father had refused to understand or accept that his son was sick. 

“Is that your brother?” Mara came up behind her in the bedchamber they were cleaning and looked down at the yard below. 

“Yes, that’s Kevyn,” she said. “He is my twin.” Ser Brus struck a blow against Kevyn’s shield and the lad stumbled back, coughing, and fell to one knee. 

“Looks like he is too ill to be training today,” Mara said. 

Lira shook her head. “He always coughs, every day for years he’s taken fits of coughing, and sleeps for too long, and he never has the strength to complete ordinary tasks. The Maesters could find nothing wrong with him and Father said Kevyn was useless and lazy but he isn’t...he’s just illl…” 

“And your father sent him here as punishment too?” Mara asked. 

“I suppose, or because he believed Kevyn would try harder for a new lord. It won’t matter though. His illness can not be cured through fear.” 

“I would think not,” Mara watched as Ser Brus helped Kevyn to his feet and spoke to him. “I think Ser Brus will treat this differently than your father. Maybe Maester Jurne can help Kevyn.” 

“If Kevyn admits that he is sick, maybe,” Lira said as the practice swords began to clash again below. Kevyn was still in the fight. 

“He’ll be alright for today,” Mara assured her. Ser Bruce would stop the fight if it became clear that Kevyn was ill. It was only a matter of time. “Let’s finish this chamber.”

“Forget the chamber,” Lord Gendry arrived in the doorway just then. “Will you both please assist me by keeping Lady Alynne entertained for a little while this morning?” His hair was askew and he sounded a little desperate. “I’ve escaped her for the time being but I can’t manage it for the entire day.” 

Mara bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Surely she isn’t that bad?”

“Isn’t there something you can do to keep her occupied? Something that noble ladies enjoy?” He continued. 

Mara almost replied that it seemed rather obvious what noble ladies enjoyed. She wondered for a brief moment why he didn’t want the same. Did her new Lord prefer the company of men?

“We could begin a tapestry,” Lira suggested. “Your great hall could use one.” 

“Yes. Do that. Bring the Wagstaff girl with you. I promised her parents she would be educated. She probably ought to learn about sewing. If you can just keep Lady Alynne occupied until noon…” he shook his head, doubtful that it would be enough. 

Lira and Mara gathered the supplies they would need for a tapestry and fetched Cyndi Wagstaff from the kitchens to help them. They found lady Alynne in the gardens with one of her own handmaids and a house guard. 

“M’lord sends his regrets that he can not join you,” Mara explained, “But we’ve brought some sewing to keep us occupied for a while. It’s a fine day for it, don’t you think, m’lady?” 

“I suppose it is a fine day,” the lady said but she sounded irritated. 

The maids sat down on nearby garden benches and Lira began to set up the frame for the tapestry. 

“I do appreciate that you’d bring all this but I shouldn’t need it,” Lady Alynne complained. “The morning was going so well.” 

“What happened my lady?” Mara asked, taking her corner of the tapestry and demonstrating to Cyndi how to begin. 

“Well we were walking in the garden just over there, Lord Gendry and I,” Alynne pointed to a path across the way. “I saw a lovely flower and asked him to reach it for me. He gave it to me and it seemed a proper moment for a kiss. I must shamefully admit that I stole one. He stumbled back against that tree over there and it would not be proper to admit such details with a child present… but we were close enough that I know he enjoyed the kiss. But he pushed me away and for a moment he just stood there like an imbecile and then he walked away without explaining a damned thing. Does your lord always behave like that?” 

“I should hope so,” Mara said without thinking. She felt guilt for her earlier amusement at the situation. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Lady Alynne asked her, offended. 

“Only that he behaved honorably, as befits a lord,” Mara said. 

Alynne rolled her eyes. “Honestly Mara, no one believes in chastity and virtuous ladies. Any lord would happily spend a night with a willing lady unless she is ugly or he prefers men, and I’m not ugly. His initial response to me is proof enough that he doesn’t prefer men. So why did he treat me with such rudeness?” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Mara said honestly. 

The maids managed to keep their guest occupied for the entire morning. They spoke of other gossip in the kingdom and made a fair amount of progress on the tapestry. Just before the noon meal lady Alynne went back to her chambers with her own maid to prepare for the meal. Mara headed for her lord’s solar. It was probably none of her business but she found herself concerned for him. 

“My lord?” Mara said from the open doorway. Gendry sat at his table with a plate of food. Clearly he did not plan to attend the meal in the great hall. 

“Come in, Mara,” he told her. 

“Forgive me if I am overstepping, but lady Alynne told us what she did in the garden,” Mara said, keeping her eyes lowered. 

“Oh. That.” Gendry said, uncomfortably. “What of it?” 

“I only wanted to tell you m’lord that Lira and I will gladly keep her occupied for the entire duration of her visit. You needn’t see her again.” 

“I probably should be insulted but I did ask for your help with her this morning,” he said, a little bitterly. 

“I meant no insult m’lord. You see, long ago my husband Rolf met a lady who was above his station. She wanted him and he did not want her in return. No one talks about it, but it seems that women are able to force themselves on men if they really want to,” Mara said sadly. “You sent Ser Derek away for mine and Edyth’s sake. If you can’t send away Lady Alynne without insulting her family, then I am happy to keep her occupied, m’lord. It’s the least I can do.” 

Gendry let out a breath of relief. “Yes. Keep her busy for the rest of her stay. I would rather not see her.” 

“Of course m’lord,” Mara took a step back to exit. 

“And Mara, thank you,” he told her as she left.


	9. Chapter 9

Ser Gibert walked the entire distance from the yard to the Lord’s solar despite the pain in his leg. He didn’t enjoy this work. He didn’t enjoy anything anymore. Not even his son Bryen could make him care about the world. He did his best to pretend to care, for Bryen’s sake but he hadn’t actually cared in years. And now Bryen had gone and hurt the Selmy boy in a practice fight, really and truly hurt him and Gilbert had been called to meet with his lord and deal with it. It wouldn’t matter what he said or what punishments he implemented. Bryen would never behave, The boy hadn’t been the same since his mother died. He had been angry and defiant and hated the world as much as his father did. Well, maybe hurting the Selmy lad had made his son happy for a moment or two. He expected it probably had. 

Ser Gilbert stepped into the solar and found his lord seated at the table and Bryen stood there with tears on his face and hands clenched into fists at his sides. This was not good. 

“I assume you heard what happened?” Gendry asked. 

“Only part of it,” the old knight admitted. “I’d like to hear the truth of it from him.” 

“Go ahead Bryen. Tell your father what happened,” Gendry said. 

“I knocked his sword out of his hand and then his shield and then I hit him in the face with my wooden sword. He started bleeding so I hit him again. And again and again and again until Ser Brus made me stop.” 

“You know better than to hit a man while he’s down,” Gilbert said, disturbed by what he had just heard. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I hate Kevyn! I hate his stupid face! I hate his stories about his home! And I hate his stupid tunic that his mother made for him! I got blood on it…”

Ser Gilbert let out a sigh. At least it made sense. Bryen would still have to be punished but at least he knew why. He hoped Lord Gendry wouldn’t be too hard on him. “I’m sorry m’lord,” ser Gilbert began, he would rather deal with this himself but if his lordship wanted to oversee the punishment he couldn’t stop him. “I will take him back to our rooms and deal with this.” 

Gendry raised a hand as if to warn Ser Gilbert to stop speaking. “Bryen, do you remember your mother?” 

Bryen unclenched his fists. “Not much m’lord.” 

“I don’t remember mine much either. I remember she had yellow hair. I never knew my father at all. I know all about the anger you are feeling. It’s not fair that Kevyn has his mother and stories of her and you don’t have yours. It’s not fair and it makes you furious, doesn’t it?” Gendry asked him. 

“Yes, m’lord,” Bryen nodded, emotion in his tone. 

“Life is not fair,” Gendry told him. “And what you just did in the practice yard, beating up a boy who is weaker than you, only made it even more unfair than it was before. I need you to fix that. You’ll take on Kevyn’s work while he recovers in addition to your own.” 

“Yes, m’lord,” Bryen said, resigned to his fate. 

Gendry looked up at Ser Gilbert. “I don’t expect you to punish him any further than the extra work I have given him. I only ask one thing of you ser.” 

“Anything m’lord,” Ser Gilbert agreed, relieved that his son hadn’t been punished more harshly. 

“Tell him stories about his mother. Maybe if he has those he’ll have less to be angry about. I know I would.” 

“Yes m’lord,” ser Gilbert agreed. He left the solar a little surprised at the wisdom of his young lord. For growing up a peasant, and for being so young, he was sometimes wise beyond his years. 

***

Mara wandered into the yard after dark, thankful that Lady Alynne was finally asleep and she had a moment to herself. She stopped to lean on a fence rail at the edge of the yard. A lantern burned in the stables ahead. She stayed where she was and gazed at the stars, something she hadn’t taken time to do in a long while. The last time had been from the Vale with Rolf at her side and their little boy Harold slept over his shoulder. She could still remember his warmth and his scent so vividly that it was almost tangible. 

Mara brushed away her tears but they kept coming anyway. It had been a while since she had cried over her losses like this. Usually she kept herself too busy and didn’t allow herself time to mourn. Sometimes the emptiness just crept up on her and overtook her unexpectedly. The lantern went out in the stables. 

“Mara?” Grayson approached her. 

“I thought you were Captain of Guard now,” Mara said as she wiped away her tears. “I didn’t expect you’d be in the stables.” 

“I wouldn’t be except that Pat keeps a jug of ale hidden in there,” he held up the jug. “You look as if you could use some of this.” 

She nodded. “I think maybe I could.” 

He pulled the cork out of the jug and took a long drink from the jug then passed it to her. She took an equally long drink and then set the jug on the fence rail. 

“Did you want to be Captain of the Guard?” she asked him absently. 

“I didn’t exactly seek it out,” he picked up the ale jug and took another drink. “I don’t have any complaints though.”

Mara took the ale from him and had another drink. She just wanted to escape out the loneliness for a moment. She took a long drink, took a breath of air, and then a second drink. Grayson watched her with concern. “What?” she asked him. 

He shook his head. “I’m just wondering what sorrows you’re trying to drown out.” 

Mara took a third drink then passed the jug back to him and turned away. “If I had to guess, I’d say you were trying to drown out a few of your own.” 

“Maybe I just like ale,” Grayson took another drink. 

“No,” Mara said, sure of it. “You have a sadness. It’s a familiar sadness. You lost someone.” she took the ale from him again and drank some more. 

Grayson didn’t reply to that right away. He let the silence fall between them and they passed the ale back and forth a few more times. Mara was getting tired and the ale was starting to affect her. 

“My wife died in childbirth,” Grayson finally said. 

Mara turned to face him. The sadness in his eyes was as profound as her own. She noticed just then that his shoulder injury from that morning was bleeding through the bandage and onto his tunic. She reached up and placed her hand on his chest, her fingertips resting on the blood stain. 

“Your bandage needs changing,” she told him, overcome with sadness for some reason. “Let me help you?” 

Grayson took her hand and held it in place for a moment. “You’re drunk Mara,” he said, leaning just close enough to kiss her on the forehead. “Get some sleep,” he told her gently and then he walked away, taking the ale jug with him.


	10. Chapter 10

Lady Alynne was going home. Gendry said a brief goodbye from a distance and waved away her wheelhouse. Mara’s assumptions about what had happened between the two of them hadn’t been entirely correct. The truth was, he might have given in to Alynne’s desires if he had thought he could trust her. The woman seemed desperate though and he expected that she probably wouldn’t drink moon tea and would use a pregnancy as a means to get him to marry her. He wasn’t going to marry her. Not ever. 

In the meantime he had been thankful for Mara’s offer of help. Though he wasn’t entirely opposed to Alynne’s attentions, what had happened with the Red Woman years ago had been an instance when a woman had used him in ways he had not wanted. As servants went, and even as women went, Mara seemed more trustworthy than most. 

“You are glad she’s gone, m’lord?” Ser Gilbert asked at his side as the wheel house drove away. 

“Very,” he admitted. 

“If she is not the sort of woman you are looking for as a wife,” Maester Jurne began, “Then what sort of woman is?” 

“I don’t know,” Gendry said honestly. “I never expected I would marry a highborn lady. I thought I would marry a commoner. Smallfolks aren’t the same as ladies.” 

“How so my lord?” Jurne asked. 

“I suppose a common woman is more likely to just say what she means and not hide behind pretty words quite so often,” Gendry explained. “And they don’t need maids to help them dress or fancy games to entertain them. They keep busy on their own and do things for themselves.” 

“So you are looking for a wife who speaks plainly and is capable of independence?” Jurne asked. 

“I suppose when you put it that way…” Gendry trailed off, realizing he had just described Arya Stark. “I suppose I am.” 

“Perhaps that can be arranged,” Jurne said thoughtfully. “I’m going to go write some letters.” 

“Maester Jurne?” Gendry called after the old Maester. “Whoever you send for, she doesn’t need to come right away. It can wait a month or two.” 

“Noted my lord,” Jurne agreed as he headed for the Rookery. 

Gendry headed for the servants rooms. He wanted to check in with Kevyn Selmy. He hadn’t seen the boy since he had been carried bleeding from the practice yard. 

He found the lad’s room easily enough. The door was open and the boy was asleep. Not having anything else pressing to do, Gendry pulled a chair up next to the bed and waited for him to wake up. Not half an hour passed before he heard footsteps approaching and Lira Selmy wandered into the room. She stopped short on seeing him. 

“My lord,” she said, her face was covered in tears and she clearly had not expected to find him there. She glanced at her brother. “He’s still asleep. I will come back later.” 

“It’s alright, you can stay,” he told her. The door was open. There was no need for her to flee unless she truly did fear her lord. Gendry didn’t like the idea that she might. 

Lira went to the other side of the bed and set to work changing some of her brother’s bandages. She finished them and then pulled up a chair to sit at his side. Lira was clearly worried about her brother. Jurne had said the injuries would heal in a few days. Lira’s worry went deeper than that. 

“How is it going in the kitchens?” Gendry asked her. Just trying to get his people to talk to him a little and maybe to trust him eventually. “Is Jeyne a kind Mistress?” 

Lira nodded. “She is far kinder than Matilda. Sometimes she shouts at us or threatens to give us extra work. Nothing more.”

“Did Matilda cane you while she was here?” Gendry asked her. 

“Twice yes. It might have been three times but Mara took my punishment for me. I can never repay her for all her help since I’ve been here. She has been teaching me so many things.” 

Gendry regarded her with confusion. Lira came from a noble house and had probably been more educated than he had. “What is Mara teaching you?” 

Lira reddened at the question. “To be a servant. I didn’t actually know how before I came here.” 

Her answer only gave him more questions. “The letter from your father said you wanted to serve in the kitchens. You didn’t ask for that, did you?” 

Lira shook her head. “No my lord. That was my father’s idea.” 

“And sending Kevyn was your father’s idea too?” 

“Yes, my lord.” 

“Would you care to explain why?” Gendry asked. 

Lira looked uncomfortable with the question. She opened her mouth as if she might attempt an answer but at that moment Mara stuck her head in the door. 

“Lira, Edyth needs us in the laundry!” Mara said anxiously then caught sight of Gendry. “Forgive me my lord, I need Lira’s help.” 

“With what? I’ve never done laundry,” Lira protested but got to her feet all the same. 

“We’re not doing laundry. We’re getting Edyth out of the laundry. She’s fallen into the vat. She’s holding onto the side and she’s fine but I can’t pull her out on my own.” 

“Then why not ask Grayson? He’s probably the strongest person here. I can’t pull Edyth from the laundry vat,” Lira argued. 

“I’m not asking Grayson,” Mara said, her cheeks reddening. “I knew you’d be here and it was closest.” 

“I’ll help,” Gendry got up and followed after the two maids. 

It was actually very simple to pull the maid Edyth out of the laundry vat. She wasn’t all that heavy and when he pulled her out she clung to him for a brief moment of thankfulness. She let go of him just as quickly, her face flush with embarrassment. It was a reaction he had seen before. Edyth rather liked being rescued by her lord and for a brief moment she looked at him with longing. The look was gone as quickly as it came. Edyth was aware of her station and she quickly resumed the expected courtesies. 

“Thank you m’lord,” she told him shyly. 

“You are welcome,” he told her and made for the door, then curiosity stopped him. “How did you fall in there in the first place?” 

“I.. I was thinking about the iron islanders… and about their drowned god… and I suppose...I suppose my imagination got the best of me…” Edyth said sheepishly. 

Her explanation really didn’t make a lot of sense but Gendry didn’t pursue it. He was almost sure that Edyth would never quite make sense to him. 

“Well, as long as you are alright now…” Gendry said, taking his leave of the maids, bemused. 

He got halfway down the hallway before he heard footsteps following after him. “My lord?” Mara called out. He stopped to allow her to catch up. “I was cleaning out Lady Alynne’s room and found that she left this behind.” Mara passed him a sealed letter with his name on the front. 

Gendry looked down at the note warily. 

“Perhaps she is merely thanking you for your hospitality,” Mara suggested. 

“I doubt it,” he said. “The problem is, my reading isn’t so great just yet. If this says what I think it says, I’d rather not ask Jurne to read it. Can you read?” 

“I can,” she said uncomfortably. “Lady Lysa thought it would be useful to have me learn when her son Robyn did.”

Gendry passed the letter back to her. “I don’t want the details. Just give me a general idea.” 

Mara opened the letter and scanned over the contents. She made a face of disgust as she read. “She is hurt that you spurned her, treated her rudely, and did not return her love. There are copious details about her love for you. It ends saying she will never forgive you.” 

“Great.” Gendry said with a nod. “That’s just great. Should I expect every visit I have from noble ladies to go like this?” 

“I am not the person to answer that question my lord. I served Lady Lysa Arryn. She too suffered a certain obsessive affliction of the mind when it came to the men she loved.”

“In a month or two Jurne will bring someone else here. I need your help to be ready. I still can hardly dance and I know very little of the sort of manners and courtesy that is expected. I have to be ready in case one of the ladies that I meet isn’t crazy. Will you help me?” 

“Of course my lord,” Mara agreed but there was hesitation in her tone. “When would you like to begin?” 

“After the noon meal you can come to my solar, today.” 

“Alright,” Mara agreed, “And what should I do with this?” she held up the letter. 

“Burn it,” he told her.


	11. Chapter 11

Patrick finished his work early and headed for the laundry room. Edyth was still working when he arrived. 

“Someone told me that you fell in there today,” he said, grinning as he leaned against the doorframe. 

Edyth looked up from her work and took in the look on his face. “Do you find that amusing?” 

“Maybe a little. I wish someone had told me. I would have pulled you out.” 

“Well, you didn’t need to. Lord Gendry himself pulled me out,” Edyth told him. 

“Did he now?” Patrick asked. “I suppose that must have been like something out of the songs. A beautiful damsel in distress is rescued from peril by a handsome lord.” He said dramatically and waited for her to react to his calling her beautiful. 

“Do you really think…?” she began the question and then stopped. “Do you really think his lordship is handsome?” 

Her witty reply took him aback for a moment and then he couldn’t help but laugh. Edyth laughed as well. 

“I have to finish wringing out these aprons and hanging them to dry,” she told him. “You don’t have to wait for me. The castle is probably safe now with Ser Derek gone.” 

“What if I just stay because I want to?” he asked her. 

“That might be nice,” Edyth agreed. 

Patrick entered the room and helped her to wring out aprons and hang them on a rack to dry. “I was thinking that if you’re not too tired, maybe we could take one of the horses out for a ride?” 

“A ride?” Edyth asked worriedly. “I’m so clumsy I fell into the laundry vat two feet away. I doubt I could sit a horse.” 

“We’d share a horse and I wouldn’t let you fall.” Patrick told her. That was the whole reason he was inviting her to do this in the first place. 

“Oh.” her pale freckled cheeks were flush once again. “In that case, I’m not too tired.” 

Patrick led her out to the stables and readied the horse. He helped her to mount and then climbed on behind her, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her close. She gasped at the closeness and then willingly leaned into him. He pointed the horse towards the gates and rode out. Edyth was just short enough that he could have rested his chin on top of her head. Her ribbon fell from her hair as they rode and her red curls were flying wild in the wind. Patrick didn’t mind. He rather liked her hair in its wild state. He resisted the temptation to rest his hands on her in places other than her ribs and instead tried to focus on directing the horse down the path ahead that led to the sea. 

All of his attempts to focus on actual riding were failing quickly and Patrick gave in to the desire to lean forward and kiss her neck. Edyth sighed in response and she took one of his hands and moved it to rest on her bosom. She inched backwards where she sat and pressed her backside into his hardness. By the time they reached the beach at the end of the path, Patrick could no longer think straight anymore. 

He dismounted and helped Edyth down. She all but fell into his arms. He kissed her and allowed the horse to wander away. It wasn’t until later when they brushed off the sand and redressed that Patrick realized the horse had truly wandered away. His eyes took in the entire beach under the full moon and he didn’t see the horse anywhere. 

“Oh shit…” he muttered. 

“What? What is it?” Edyth asked. 

“I think we’ve lost the horse.”

Edyth looked over the beach too. “She can’t have gone far. Maybe she went home.” 

They checked further down the beach, called the horse’s name but didn’t find her. So they walked the path back to the castle and didn’t find her on the path or within the grounds either. 

“What sort of Master of Horse loses a horse?” Patrick said with frustration. “Lord Gendry will be rid of me as soon as he finds out.” 

“It’s not that late. There’s still time for her to come back before morning,” Edyth said. 

Patrick turned to face her. “I love your optimism, truly I do. And I love the way your hair flies wild when you take the ribbon out. And I love your laugh and the way you sometimes look at me like I’m some damn hero from the songs. If I can have you in my life a while longer then being demoted from Master of Horse will have been worth it.” 

Edyth closed some of the space between them and rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Patrick took the opportunity to kiss her one more time. He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers for a moment. “I have to wake Grayson. He’ll help me look for the mare. Maybe with a little help I can find her.” 

“I can help,” Edyth offered. 

“You’d best not. Once Grayson finds out how I lost the horse…” 

“He won’t want to see me,” Edyth understood. “Alright, I’ll go to bed. Just… be careful.” 

Patrick kissed Edyth good night one final time and then went to find his brother. Grayson wasn’t in his room. For a moment Patrick was confused by that but then vaguely remembered his brother telling him that he would be on duty during the night. Patrick headed in the direction of Lord Gendry’s rooms and found Grayson standing guard outside his lordship’s door. 

“What happened?” Grayson asked as he saw him approach. 

“What makes you assume something happened? Can’t I just check in with my favorite brother?” 

“What have you done?” Grayson asked, more wary than before. 

“I lost a horse,” Pat mumbled. 

“You did what?” 

“I lost a horse,” Patrick said it more loudly this time. 

“How in seven hells did you lose a horse?” Grayson asked with disbelief. 

“Well..I went for a ride to the beach… with Edyth...and… I was distracted. I didn’t see where the horse went.” 

Grayson glared at him. “You lost a horse because you were fucking a woman.”

“I wasn’t…” Patrick didn’t like his brother’s choice of words. He also knew that he didn’t have time to argue with him over that. “Are you going to help me find the horse or not?” 

“I’m not gonna abandon my post. You made this mess. You find the horse.” 

“So that’s how it is? Duty over family?” Patrick asked him. 

“I nearly died for you a few days ago, or have you forgotten already, brother?” Grayson told him, angry.

“I’m not asking you to die for me, only to help me find a horse,” Patrick said. “People have been hung for the theft of a horse. I need your help.” 

“You’re not worried about being hung. We both know that hanging isn’t how lord Gendry solves his problems. You’re worried about being demoted.”

“It’s a valid concern,” Patrick said. “Why are you refusing to help me?” 

“I’m refusing to abandon my post.” 

“You’re the Captain of the Guard. Schedule yourself elsewhere.” 

“I’m not taking advantage of my position like that. Neither should you. You shouldn’t be using your authority to be taking horses out to ride with the kitchen wench. You lost the fucking horse. You find it.” Grayson told him firmly. 

Patrick was very nearly ready to punch his brother. It wouldn’t be the first time. They had fought each other as often as they had defended each other. His hand was clenched into a fist when lord Gendry’s bedchamber door slowly opened. 

“What’s going on out here?” Gendry asked. 

“A horse escaped the yard m’lord,” Grayson said. “Might I have your leave to help my brother look for it?” 

Gendry gave the pair of them a funny look and then nodded. “Go ahead.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if anyone is still reading but I am finding myself really invested in writing these characters at this point. I do hope someone is enjoying their story.

Gendry watched the Swann brothers go to search for their missing horse and wondered for a moment what it would take to get these people to trust him. He had been awake and had heard the brothers arguing. He was well aware that the horse had been lost on the beach while Patrick was alone with a maid. Grayson was unwilling to abandon his post for some reason and help his brother. Gendry doubted it was over something as simple as honor. Then when given the chance, Grayson had chosen to help his brother anyway and still neither of them revealed the truth. 

Gendry decided he would get dressed and assist with the search for the horse. He couldn’t sleep anyhow. He might as well be of use. He dressed quickly and chose a mare from the stables. It was a clear moonlit night on the beach. It made sense why Patrick would be distracted by a maid in a place like this. He supposed he should be angry. Lords were supposed to get angry when servants and common people lost or destroyed their property. But he hadn’t even known the horse and he still didn’t really feel like a lord. He felt like he was a peasant who was living a lie. Eventually they would realize it was a lie and everything would fall apart. 

He rode at a slow pace across the sand and saw movement ahead. He could hear Patrick and Grayson calling the horse’s name at the top of the hill past the beach. The movement ahead was not then. As he got slowly closer he made out the shape of a horse. Sure enough it was a riderless mare. He approached cautiously and was thankful when the mare didn’t run from him. He rode right up alongside her and took the reins. 

“Well, that was easy,” he said aloud. Now for the hard part. If he were a lord like Tywinn Lannister he would ride back to the castle with the horse he had found and wait patiently for his people to return and admit to him that they couldn’t find the horse. Then he would announce to them that he’d found the horse himself and berate them and punish them for their irresponsible behavior. 

Gendry wasn’t Tywinn Lannister. He wasn’t Eddard Stark either. He didn’t really want to punish or demote Patrick. He wanted to be in a position where Patrick would have been unafraid to admit the truth of what he had done. The brief loss of the horse had been an irresponsible mistake but it had not been a malicious one. If his people were ever to trust him, he would need to handle this carefully. 

He decided to go further down the beach and up the hill towards the brothers voices with the lost mare in tow. He rode out between a hedge of bushes and underbrush and the young men caught sight of him. All their calls fell silent and they went still on the horses they rode. 

“Were you looking for this?” he rode up to Patrick and dropped the reins in his hand. 

“How did you…?” Patrick began but did not complete the question. 

“I was awake. I heard your entire argument. Perhaps next time you’ll consider just coming to me with the truth from the beginning. I can be of more help if I am informed of what’s going on.” With that he turned his horse and rode away. 

He returned his horse to the stables and rather than go back to his room, he continued walking the halls of the castle. He wasn’t ready to sleep yet. His lately just didn’t make him tired enough for sleep. He was accustomed to hard work, to labor really. He passed through the servants quarters hallway, past Mara’s room and stopped momentarily outside her door. She had given him a dancing lesson that afternoon. He knew that if he had been responsible for a horse during that dancing lesson, he probably would have lost track of it too. The woman was a distraction and perhaps not in a good way. His lordship had been legitimized but some people still didn’t take that as seriously as if he had been a trueborn son. If he married a Snow it would not help his standing. He shouldn’t care about his standing. He didn’t care about his standing. Except he had struggled all his life to survive, he couldn’t do anything to jeopardize what he finally had now. Because someday he would have children and he would not allow them to grow up in a place like Flea Bottom or to know hunger or fear. They would have the safety of Storm’s End and the protection of a father who was a Lord. If his bannermen thought his choice in a wife to be too lowborn, all of that could be put at risk and couldn’t allow himself to forget what was at stake. Not even when this one woman Mara and her dancing lessons threatened to make him forget all that. 

Gendry stopped in the great hall and looked over the empty tables. He thought about that feast at Winterfell just before the army of the dead had come. He thought about that one night with Arya. He missed her but he had accepted she was never coming back to him. He truly had. He just wondered sometimes if he would ever be quite that happy again. Life had become too complicated to allow him happiness now. All that was really left was duty. 

***

“Lord Anson Wendwater is here to see you,” Ser Gilbert announced to Gendry in his solar the next morning. “He’s waiting down at the small hall.” 

“He’s the lord of the nearest castle, right?” Gendry asked as he got to his feet and followed the old knight out towards the small hall. 

“He is indeed. He has brought his family with him to meet his new liege and neighbor.” 

“Oh. Should I have visited him instead?” Gendry didn’t know how this sort of thing was normally done. 

“You might have or he can come to you. These things can be done either way.” 

Gendry arrived at the small hall and was introduced to Lord Wendwater, the lord’s son and wife, and young son. Rosa was there serving a light lunch for the guests. They chatted for a while about local matters and his guests agreed to swear formal oaths of fealty before leaving for home. Mara arrived with a fresh tray of food and once it was serve she stood along the wall with Rosa. 

Lord Wendwater’s young grandson grew restless in his mother’s lap and the woman let her blond haired son down to the floor. The lad was hardly more than a baby and he toddled about the room under his mother’s watchful eye. Twice she went to him and turned him in another direction before he could touch something that did not belong to him. Then the little one wandered over to Mara, looked up at her, and tugged on her skirts. Gendry did not end his conversation with Lord Anson but he watched as Mara’s eyes welled up with tears at this child tugging on her skirts. 

“Up?” the toddler asked Mara. “Up?” he said a second time 

Mara looked to the boy’s mother for permission and she nodded. Mara picked him up and set him on her hip. The boy reached over and took a lock of Mara’s dark brown hair in his chubby fist. It was an entirely different shade from his own hair and his mother’s blond. 

“Pretty…” he said at the handful of hair. 

Mara bit her lip and then she hugged the child. He seemed willing enough to be hugged and remained with her for a time until the family was ready to move to the great hall and swear their oaths. The boy’s mother went to Mara to take her son back and Mara reacted by hugging him a little tighter. 

“I’ll carry him,” Lady Wendwater said firmly, and she pulled the boy from Mara’s hug, 

Mara let out an audible sob as the boy was pulled away from her. For a brief moment she hugged herself and then she ran from the small hall. 

“What was that about?” Lord Anson asked, disturbed. 

“She lost a son about that age,” Gendry explained. “Let her be.” 

“Poor woman,” Lady Wendwater said. “If I had known I would have let her hold him longer.” 

***

Mara ran to the kitchens and took two mugs which she dropped in her apron pockets. Then she grabbed a jug of ale down from a shelf. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeyne asked her, looking up from her work. She knew that if Mara had been serving the ale to their guests she would have taken a tray. 

“Drinking. Don’t try to stop me,” Mara told her bitterly. 

Jeyne gave her a look that was sternness mixed with compassion. “Aye. Go and have your drink. You look like you need it.” 

Mara fled the kitchens and went straight for Grayson’s door. He had been on duty last night and was probably asleep. It wasn’t very kind of her to wake him like this but she had to do something and she felt as if she might unravel otherwise. Mara pounded on Grayson’s door, her face covered in tears. Moments later he opened it. 

“Mara?” he asked, tired and confused. 

She held up the jug of ale. “Drink with me?” 

He looked her over a moment longer then stepped aside. “Come in.” Grayson closed the door behind her then crossed the small room to sit down on his bed against the wall. 

There was only one chair in the room and it was pulled up to a small table next to the bed. Mara only hesitated a moment before crossing to sit down on the bed next to Grayson. She slid back with her back against the wall like his was and didn't leave much space between them. Mara pulled the cork from the jug and poured a mug for herself and for Grayson. She downed her drink in one gulp and Grayson only sipped his. 

“What happened?” Grayson asked her. 

“Lord Wendwater was here today with his son and grandson,” Mara poured herself a second mug of ale. “That little one had wispy blond hair just like my Harold.” she told him and then drank down half the mug in one gulp. “I picked him up….and I hugged him….and then she….she just took him….took him from my arms….and he’s gone…” Mara sobbed, and then she downed the rest of the mug of ale, nearly choking on it. 

Grayson watched her sadly for a moment longer. “No matter how much ale you drink, it’s not going to bring him back.” 

“I know,” Mara whispered. 

Grayson leaned forward and placed his mug on the table. Then he took the jug from Mara and placed that on the table as well. “Then why do we do it?” he asked, taking the mug from her last of all and putting that on the table too. 

“To make it hurt a little less,” Mara said. 

“That’s not what makes it hurt less, or else you would have been content to drink alone.” 

Mara’s eyes met his. “You’re right. You do make it hurt less. Sitting here with you makes it all the more bearable.” 

“I feel the same,” he told her and then he wrapped his arms around her and he hugged her while she wept in mourning for just a little while.


	13. Chapter 13

Lira couldn’t stop throwing up. Rosa had told her that was the way of it when some women were with child. Sometimes not much of anything would quell the queasiness and they had to try and continue with life despite it. Rosa would know all about that. She had three children and a husband. Lira knew better than to ask Mara about such things. Mara didn’t want to talk about her husband or the child she had lost and Lira wasn’t so callous as to try and make her. She instead brought her pregnancy concerns to Rosa. 

On this particular afternoon she was finding it difficult to even look at the food on the tray she carried for lord Gendry. Most times Rosa or Mara served the meals. But one of Rosa’s sons was feeling unwell and Jeyne had dismissed her for the afternoon to tend her son. Mara had run off and hidden herself during the Wendwater visit and no one had seen her since so it fell to Lira to carry the lord’s evening meal to his solar. 

Lira reached the solar and place the tray before lord Gendry on his table. He thanked her as she stepped back along the wall to await any further requests during the meal. A breeze drifted in from the open window and the sea air carried the scent of supper right to Lira’s nose. The smell was too much. Lira could no longer contain the contents of her stomach and she puked right where she stood, on the floor and on her own feet. 

Gendry dropped his fork. He was momentarily disgusted but the disgust did not last for long. “Lira are you sick?” 

Lira straightened her stance and wiped her mouth with her apron. She knew that she might as well tell her lord the truth. Her belly was already starting to swell and in a few more weeks she would no longer be able to hide it. “Forgive me m’lord. I’m not ill. I’m with child.” 

“Oh,” Gendry said, as if something important suddenly made sense to him. “That’s why your father sent you here?” 

“Yes. he sent me here to hide my shame and he sent away my love Gareth Rivers and told me I can never marry him,” Lira felt as if the words were spilling out of her. “Father says I will still have to marry my betrothed and when the baby comes he will take it away and I will never see my baby again. But Mara says that won’t happen. She says that if you can’t help me m’lord, that she will. She says she will never stand by and watch any woman’s child be torn away from her and she would kill any man who would attempt it. I am afraid she might really mean that and I don’t want to see Mara punished for trying to help me. Can you help me m’lord?” 

Gendry got to his feet and picked up the cloth napkin that sat on his table. He went to Lira and dropped the napkin on the floor at her feet. Then he placed a hand on her shoulder. “No one will take away your child,” he told her. “We will tell your father your babe was stillborn. We will tell him Rosa had another child if we must, but no one will take away your baby. And in truth it is against the law of the land to force people to marry. We can speak to king Bran if we must but I’ll not assist in forcing you to marry anyone.” 

Lira let out a gasp of relief. “Thank you m’lord.” 

Gendry only nodded in response. “Go to the kitchens and send someone back who can clean this up.” 

***

It was the child Cyndi Wagstaff who came to clean up the mess in Gendry’s solar. 

“Where are the other maids, Rosa and Mara?” he asked the girl. Mara had never arrived for her dancing lesson and he had started to get worried. 

“My brother is not feeling so well. Sometimes he gets headaches so Mistress Jeyne released my mother to tend to him. And Mara, no one has seen her in hours m’lord. Mistress Jeyne says she regrets giving Mara leave to take a jug of ale and she hopes Mara isn’t drunk somewheres.” 

“Is someone going to look for Mara?” Gendry asked. People could make themselves truly sick of they drank too much. 

“After the supper is cleaned up they will. Jeyne said she will clout Mara beside the head if she finds her passed out drunk but I don’t think she will m’lord.” 

“I’ll help look for her when the time comes,” Gendry said. “You may go Cyndi.” 

Gendry returned his tray and dishes to the kitchen on his own. He then began to follow assist in the search for Mara. They checked her room and then the gardens, the cellars, the empty bedchambers, the rookery, all the places they could think of. After an hour Edyth approached him shyly, a blush on her cheeks. 

“I found her m’lord. She is safe,” Edyth said uncomfortably. 

“Where is she?” he asked. 

“She’s…” Edyth began but didn’t seem to want to explain. 

“Show me,” he told the maid. If she couldn’t find the words to explain, she could at least show him. 

“Alright. This way,” Edyth led the way back to the servants quarters. 

They stopped outside of a door and Gendry was unsure who occupied the room. The door was open just a crack and Edyth pushed it open a little wider. The light from the hall allowed him to see Mara and Grayson sitting on the bed, fully clothed, and asleep embraced. Edyth let the door swing shut and turned to face her lord. 

Gendry nodded. “It appears she is indeed safe,” he said and he turned away from her and headed back to his solar. He met Patrick in the hallway who gave him a funny look and then continued past him towards Edyth. Let the Swann brothers sleep well. Someone at Storm’s End should be sleeping well. The lord of the Castle probably wouldn’t be one of them.


	14. Chapter 14

Maester Jurne stood looking over the letters in the rookery and felt ill equipped to know how to respond. Of course he would speak to his lordship before writing a response and he would seek the advice of Ser Gilbert as well. It wasn’t exactly a simple matter, finding a wife for his liege. His days at the Citadel had taught him how to tend illness and injury and how to educate the young children of lords. He wasn’t supposed to be making marriage arrangements. 

“Bad news?” Ser Gilbert asked on arriving and seeing the look on his face. 

“I wouldn’t call it bad. I simply don’t know what to do with it. The truth is, Howland Reed is asking to send his daughter here for a visit on her way south to join the King’s nameday celebration. The other letter is from Melessa Tarly asking if her daughter Talla would be permitted a visit and consideration for betrothal.” 

“Sounds rather straightforward to me. Bring them each here for a fortnight and let his lordship decide,” Ser Gilbert said. 

“They want to come at the same time. Is it wise to bring two young women to court the young lord at the same time?” 

Ser Gibert shrugged. “There was once a time in my youth that I might have rather liked to have two women fighting over me.” 

“We don’t want this to turn into a scandal,” Jurne protested. 

“I suppose not,” Ser Gilbert said. 

“You suppose? Don’t you know it?” 

Ser Gilbert thought about that for a moment. “Nope. Truth is, everything around here is rather dull. My boy has stopped being so angry, there are no wars to prepare for, no battles to fight. All I have is the fucking pain in my leg day after day. I think bringing two women here to vie for the love our lord might make things interesting for once.” 

“Vie? What would you have the ladies do? Fight each other in a tournament?” Jurne asked. 

Ser Gilbert smiled one of his rare smiles. “That might be fun.” 

“Nonsense,” Jurne shook his head. 

“It couldn’t hurt to at least bring them here.” 

Should I tell him it was your idea when I make the proposal?” Jurne said, bemused. 

“Tell Gendry it can’t be helped. They requested to come at the same time and it’s best to accommodate them.” 

Jurne shook his head. “He is our lord. We’re meant to serve him not torment him for our own amusement.” 

“It wouldn’t be a torment to have two women want him. We would be doing him a favor.” 

“Let’s see what he thinks of the idea?” 

***

Mara awoke with a small gasp in the darkness. She wasn’t alone. Grayson was here. He was warm and he was strong and he was here. She nuzzled a little closer to him knowing that the moment wouldn’t last much longer. 

“Hey…” Grayson moved a little and brushed away the fresh tears on her face with his hand. “I am likely late for my shift. I should go.” 

Mara nodded and sniffled a little. “I probably slept through lord Gendry’s dancing lesson. He asked me to teach him to dance.” 

“I wish he had asked someone else. Is that terrible?” Grayson said, his fingers combing through her hair. 

“It’s not terrible,” Mara said pushing close enough that her nose was touching his and her lips nearly touched his. 

Grayson took the hint and he kissed her, his lips just brushing against hers first softly then more firmly, his tongue tasting her for just a brief moment. Then he ended the kiss and pulled away, resting his forehead against her. 

“I have to go,” he told her huskily. 

“I should go to… see what I missed…” Mara got up from the bed, and moved for the door. “I’ll come back later for the ale.” 

Grayson gave her half a smile. “For the ale, sure. Looking forward to it.” 

***

Mara stopped by the kitchen to see if there was any work left to do and found them empty and clean. She continued on to Lord Gendry’s rooms to make her apology for missing the dancing lesson. His door was partially open when she arrived and Maester Jurne was inside. 

“Lady Meera Reed will arrive in a fortnight and Lady Talla Tarly will arrive a few days after that,” Jurne said. 

“What am I supposed to do with two ladies here as guests?” Gendry asked uncomfortably. 

“They will keep each other company and your duty will be easier than with Lady Alynne,” Jurne explained. 

“Easier? Both of them want to be the lady of Storm’s End and I’m supposed to pick between them while they’re both here. How is that easier?” 

“They have both requested to come here. If we insult either of them by putting them off then you might miss the chance to meet them at all,” Jurne reminded him. 

“Do I even want to meet them? What do you know about them?” 

“Lady Tarly is the heir to Horn Hill and sizable lands and wealth, since her brother is a Maester and can not inherit. I am told she is fair and is a courteous and kind lady. Lady Mira is also an heir to the meager Reed holdings. She traveled with King Bran north of the wall and shared in many of his adventures. She is most definitely an independent lady.” 

“Fine. Tell them they can come for a visit. I’ll figure it out.” Gendry said, frustrated. 

“Thank you my lord,” Jurne said and he exited the room stopping to glare at Mara for a moment when he found her standing outside the door. 

Mara knocked lightly in the doorway. 

“Enter,” Gendry called out. 

“I wanted to apologize my lord,” Mara said as she entered. “It seems I fell asleep.” 

“I am aware,” Gendry said. “You were missing for some time. Edith found you asleep.” 

“Oh,” Mara said, deflated. “So everyone knows that…?” 

“That you fell asleep in Grayson’s bed? Yes.” 

“It wasn’t like that. I went to him because of how the Wendwater child was so much like my Haraold and…” Mara trailed off. She wasn’t ashamed of falling asleep in Grayson’s arms. She was ashamed of forgetting Rolf for just a brief moment. 

“Your reasons don’t matter. You are free to share a space with whoever will have you. In the future though, it’s better not to do so when you’re expected at a dance lesson.” 

“Of course my lord. Forgive me.” Mara said. 

Gendry nodded. “We will resume tomorrow then.” 

“Yes my lord,” Mara said and she made her exit quickly.


	15. Chapter 15

Patrick had spent most of his evening sitting in the servants hall with Edyth. Well they hadn’t been just sitting there. Nathyn Wagstaff had been sitting in a corner playing his lute while some of the children and servants danced. The servants hall was much like the lord’s small hall but it was just off the kitchen and contained one long table for the servants to take their meals and it held a stack of extra chairs and benches along one wall which were taken out to the great hall should the number of guests require it. The room had been intended as a pantry when the castle was first built but later the kitchen had a fire and the kitchen had been remade with a new pantry. The old pantry had been used for storage until two days ago when Mistress Jeyne told the young men to rearrange the furniture stored there so the room could be of use. So the servants arranged the extra benches and chairs into the corners of the servants hall to make a sort of solar for themselves and put one of the tables down the center of the room for meals. This was the first evening they had gathered there. 

Patrick had danced with Edyth to Nathyn’s music and eventually Sir Gilbert had convinced a reluctant Mistress Jeyne to dance with him. At first she had declined but Rosa and Edyth both had encouraged her to accept and she had reluctantly done so and had been smiling by the time the dance ended. Patrick danced with Edyth through several dances and then they sat at a bench for a while, holding hands and watching as Lira tried to teach the Wagstaff lads and Bryen how to dance. Cyndi tried to assist in the effort but was no better at it than her brothers. 

Mara Snow wandered into the room listlessly and took a seat on a bench not far from Nathyn. She sang some of his songs but did not dance. Then Kevyn Selmy entered the room, still bandaged from his fight earlier that week. Bryen ended his sad attempt at dancing with Cyndi Wagstaff and just stared as Kevyn entered the room. Kevyn walked straight over to Bryen and being slightly taller he peered down at him. The room fell silent. Nathyn’s music went quiet as well. 

“Is there something you want?” Bryen finally said. 

“Two things actually,” Kevyn said. “The first one is an apology.” 

“I’m sorry I busted up your face,” Bryen said, unintimidated. “What’s the other thing?” 

“Teach me how you hit so hard. You owe me that.” 

Bryen’s angry expression soon changed to a smile. “Alright. I can do that.” 

Nathyn’s music resumed and Pat turned to Edyth. “I need to go talk to Grayson. I think I owe him an apology.” 

Edyth nodded, understanding. “Of course.” 

Patrick leaned close enough to give her a brief kiss. “Don’t wait up for me.” 

Grayson wasn’t outside the lord’s rooms which meant he was doing rounds around the castle grounds. Patrick found him eventually on the parapets near the tower. 

“Aren’t you cold up here?” Pat asked as the cool sea breeze blew over them. 

“Not as much as you’d think.” 

He stood in silence a moment and looked out over the sea. 

“What are you doing up here instead of with Edyth?” Grayson asked. 

“I needed to talk to you, Edyth can wait.” 

“Don’t bother,” Grayson said, annoyed. “You always do this. Don’t bother.” 

“I always do what?” Patrick asked. 

“You always pull me into your trouble and then apologize for it. I don’t need your apology.” 

“You doubt my sincerity?” Pat asked, trying his best to not become irritated. 

“No. I just doubt that you understand what it is you ask of me every time you do this,” Grayson said with emotion. “I remember that night every single time.” 

“Every time?” Patrick asked, overcome with guilt. “Brother I’m-” 

Grayson put up a hand to stop Patrick from speaking. “Don’t say it. Do not say it.” 

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve said it countless times and it will never be enough.” 

Grayson sighed and rested his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “You misunderstand. You were dying that night. Hellen was having our first child and my brother was dying. I made a choice and I do not blame you for that choice nor do I expect an apology from you when I choose you again and again.” 

“But you doubt your choice because I survived and your wife did not,” Patrick said sadly. 

Grayson looked down at his feet then back at Pat. “I would make the same choice again. I always do, every time you get into trouble I pick you. I’m trying to say that I want you to stop asking me to choose.”

Pat bit back the knot in his throat and nodded. “Alright. I can do that. I’ll stop asking.” Patrick turned away and left his brother to his duty.


End file.
